


Insomnia

by Meiilan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Job, Dream Sex, Implied dub con, M/M, Teaven Mahariel, parasomnia - Freeform, slight somniaphilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 10:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3974953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meiilan/pseuds/Meiilan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite the fact, that he seemed constantly tired, Dirthamen suffered from insomnia frighteningly often. It wasn’t rare, that he laid awake, while Taeven was still deep in slumber besides him. Usually the mage passed his time with watching over the warden’s sleep, chasing away the occasional nightmare, that threatened to disturb his night. But tonight he felt somewhat restless and couldn’t settle with just lying still. Instead he turned to watch the boy closer, how his back rose and fell slowly with his breath, or how his eyelashes fluttered softly, as he dreamed. A sudden mischievous thought, made the mage smirk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DalishOutcast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DalishOutcast/gifts).



> This was written as a little motivational reward for dalishoutcast, the mun of Taeven Mahariel. As usual relationship and headcanons used in this peace are all based on my roleplay-blog on tumblr: dirthamen-keeper-of-secrets.tumblr.com
> 
> Comment-box is enabled for people without an AO3-Account. Feel free to let me know what you think of my stories.

Despite the fact, that he seemed constantly tired, Dirthamen suffered from insomnia frighteningly often. It wasn’t rare, that he laid awake, while Taeven was still deep in slumber besides him. Usually the mage passed his time with watching over the warden’s sleep, chasing away the occasional nightmare, that threatened to disturb his night. But tonight he felt somewhat restless and couldn’t settle with just lying still. Instead he turned to watch the boy closer, how his back rose and fell slowly with his breath, or how his eyelashes fluttered softly, as he dreamed. A sudden mischievous thought, made the mage smirk.  
Carefully, tentatively he reached out with his mind until he could sense Taeven’s dream. It was a simple enough one, just a loose collection of memories. Like a beast on the hunt, the mage lay still, waiting for the right moment and just when a memory of Dirthamen rose to Taeven’s consciousness the Keeper of Secrets struck. Holding onto the memory, he used his magic, to solidify the picture until it turned into a proper dream-setting. It was a memory of their first meeting, how pleasantly convenient. It needed just a bit of shifting and changing and the fun could begin.  
-  
_He was on that clearing again, bow at the ready, his eyes fixed on the mage infront of him. A loud cawing sound, distracted him, his head involuntarily snapping up to find the source of the sound. When he looked back, the mage was gone. Before he could turn to see, where he’d gone to, he heard that calm whispering voice close to his ears._  
“Put your bow down, Da'len. You won’t need it, right now.”  
As if! He tried to turn and jump from the man, who was standing too close to him, but a foot, that suddenly appeared between his own, threw him off balance. With a yelp he fell backwards right into Dirthamen’s waiting arms. Bow and arrow fell to the grassy ground, as he had let go of them in order to catch his own fall. He struggled to get back on his feet, but the mage’s arms around his chest were surprisingly strong. A hand slid under his tunic - where did his armor go? - and calloused fingers teased along the muscles of his stomach.  
“Calm down, Da'len. I do not mean to harm you. Quite the contrary!”  
-  
Grinning from ear to ear, Dirthamen watched the elf in his arms twitch softly in his sleep. The moment his dream-avatar had wrapped his arms around Taeven’s, he had mimicked the gesture in real life, thus pulling the sleeping warden close to his chest.  
-  
_Suddenly they were laying on the mossy ground, the mage spooning him from behind, one hand still wrapped tightly around his chest, while the other drew soothing circles on his skin underneath his tunic. Warm breath at the back of his ear was the only warning he got, before sift lips and gentle teeth teased his sensitive auricle. He tried to free himself from the mage’s grip, but only managed to roll onto his stomach, the other’s weight on top of him, pressing him further down into the ground. He heard him chuckle._  
“Careful! You might hurt yourself.”  
That’s when he felt it, warm and hard pressing against his rear through the thin cloth of his smalls - when did he shed his breeches? The mage hummed softly, as he rolled his hips down on him, seeking friction.  
“Hmm~, you are the most alluring temptation, Da'len. If only you wouldn’t be so stubbornly defiant.”  
Taking that as his cue, he tried to push up and roll around, hoping to topple the mage of his back. But the other man had anticipated the move and managed to stay on top, now straddling Taeven’s hips.  
“Now, now! What did I say, about being careful?”  
-  
Thankfully Taeven’s reflexes weren’t as sharp in his sleep, as they were when awake. Otherwise Dirthamen would have had a very unfortunate encounter with the ground besides him. It was a close call, that he managed to stay on top, but it had certainly been worth it. Through their smalls, he could feel the rouge’s half-hard erection. So he was enjoying this little dream after all.  
-  
_“My, my! Seems like you do like my treatment! Really now, there’s no need to hide it!”_  
The mage rolled his hips again, this time in order to rub his own rear against Taeven’s erection. He would have gripped his hips, if it wasn’t for the hands on his wrist pinning him down. So, all he could do was take it. The friction was good, so good, but the pace was tormenting in its slowness. His breathing became ragged and he felt his tunic cling to his sweaty skin, but the mage was in no better form, his brows knit together in concentration. Apparently he liked the feeling of Taeven’s dick against his arse.  
-  
This was bad. Dirthamen had only meant to tease the boy a bit. But as usual he had proven to be far too addicting a drug and now he was in the predicament of having to decide how much further he could take this. His own erection was already straining against his small and he could feel the tip of Taeven’s poke at his anus ever so often, while he rolled his hips down on him. When Taeven suddenly bucked his hips, his self-restraint went down the drain.  
Here goes nothing!  
-  
_Suddenly the hands on his wrists were gone. Sliding further down on him, the mage grinned wickedly._  
“If you’re a good boy and hold still, I’ll give you something nice.”  
Sitting up on his elbows, he watched the mage push up his tunic, only to then lick and nibble his way down to the hem of his smalls. Sitting down on his shins, the mage pulled his smalls down just far enough to free his erection. When  those smirking lips wrapped around the head of his dick, Taeven let himself fall back onto the moss. The feeling was amazing. The mage went down on him slowly, all the way, until his nose was poking against his belly. As he pulled back up, that wicked tongued pressed against the vein on the underside of his dick. Wrapping his lips tightly around the head, his tongue lapped at the small slit, tasting the dribbles of pre-cum gathering there. With his hands now free, he carded his fingers through the long, dark hair of the mage, pushing ever so slightly to urge him back down and to his surprise he obliged. When he felt his tip hitting the back of the mage’s throat, his hips strained in an attempt to buck, but with the mage still sitting on his legs and two strong hands pushing down onto his hipbones he couldn’t do much more but writhe slightly underneath him, as soft moans and whimpers escaped his lips.  
-  
Taeven was a delicious mess: His hair disheveled, a thin sheen of sweat glistening in his skin, the muscles in his stomach twitching ever so slightly, as his sleeping body tried to buck and writhe, but did not quite manage. Oh the things Dirthamen wanted to do to him now! But this was, as far as he would go, at least while Taeven had not yet given him his clear consent. Letting go of Taeven’s dick, he moved up on the boy again, stroking gentle fingers through his sweaty hair, he leaned down to whisper into his ear, knowing full well that his dream-counterpart was doing the exact same right now.  
“If you wake up for me, you can have even more, Da'len.”  
Taeven woke with a start, blinking a bit confused up at the mage on top of him. But the moment of obliviousness was over all too soon and a frown appeared on the rouge’s face, his eyes clouding over. For a moment Dirthamen feared, that Taeven might be angry at the god, for playing this trick on him. But then he watched the archer lick his lips and ask carefully, almost hesitantly: “What… do you mean with more?”  
Smiling wickedly, the mage tilted his head slightly.  
“Why, anything you would like, Da'len!”  
Taeven’s hands shot up and grabbed the mage’s arse through his nightgown, causing him to moan softly.  
“I want you to ride me.”  
The boy’s voice was still slightly hoarse with sleep, but the hunger in his eyes showed that he was very much awake by now. Liking his own lips in anticipation, Dirthamen grinned even more.  
“As you wish, Da'len.”  
Having accommodated to the fact, that they can’t keep their hands off each other for long, Dirthamen had convinced Taeven to spend some gold on a few vials of scented oil, for he didn’t want to waste his precious energy on a lube-spell every time they were going about it. Reaching for one of the vials, he let it dangle with an unspoken question above the rouge’s face. Taeven answered with a wicked grin.  
“I’m still half asleep. I don’t think, I can be entrusted with such a task, yet.”  
Shaking his head, Dirthamen was briefly considering to take back his offer as punishment. Ah, but Taeven had behaved so well till now, it would be cruel not to reward him for it. He quickly got up, to strip of his smalls, but kept his nightgown on, as a small rebuttal for the archer’s cheekiness. As he settled on Taeven, straddling his hips, the rouge immediately showed his dislike of th gown, by shoving his hands underneath its hem and pushing it up, until his palms rested on Dirthamen’s sides.  
Pouring a deliberate amount of the oil on his fingers, the god lifted his hips, to probe and push at his own anus. Dirthamen didn’t take much time to prepare himself, the heated, unwavering gaze with which Taeven watched him go about it was spurring him on, more than he would have liked to admit. Eventually the mage reached for Taeven’s cock behind him and spread the remaining oil in long languid strokes over the throbbing flesh. Lining him up against his entrance, Dirthamen slid down on it excruciatingly slow until Taeven was buried to the hilt. The god remained still, while he adjusted himself to the rouge’s girth. When Taeven couldn’t bear the wait anymore his hands moved down to Dirthamen’s hips, trying to lift him, urge him to move. But the god swatted his hands away. Grinning down at the rouge, he said: “You’re still half asleep. I don’t think, you can be entrusted with such a task, yet.”  
Leaning down to kiss the adorable pout that had earned him, Dirthamen began to roll his hips slightly, lifting his arse a bit and then pushing it back down on Taeven. Bracing himself against Taeven’s stomach, the mage set a tormenting pace - slow but hard, raising his hips, until Taeven’s cock almost slipped out and then slamming them down again in one swift move. Soon the tent was filled with Taeven’s moans and whimpers and Dirthamen’s sighs and ragged breathing. The rouge’s hands never kept still, roaming over the gods stomach and chest, toying with his pert nipples, clawing along his sensitive sides. He was determined to turn the mage into a broken mess and he was being fairly successful with it.  
Dirthamen’s long hair clung to his sweaty face, his eyes were half-shut, mouth hanging slack as the faintest of whimpers escaped his lips. His thighs were shaking from the effort and Taeven had to hold onto his hips to support him by now. When the rouge bucked up, meeting the mage’s moves down with hard thrust upwards, Dirthamen’s arms gave in and he collapsed against Taeven’s chest. The warden braced his feet against the ground for better leverage, as he kept thrusting up into the hot tightness of the gods arse, finally able to dictate the pace for once.  
From there on it didn’t take long. Being pushed back and forth over Taeven’s taught  stomach, the friction on his trapped dick was enough for Dirthamen to come, with a long whine, his face buried in the rouge’s shoulder. Taeven followed suit after a few quick hard thrusts, pressing the mage down on his crotch, while he  came deep inside him.  
The remained like that, for a few moments, while they each tried to catch their breath. Eventually Taeven cleared his throat.  
“So… dream-sex, huh? Was that a regular thing in Arlathan?”  
Dirthamen’s responding chuckle shook them both slightly. As he pushed himself up on his elbows, to look down at Taeven, mirth twinkled in his eyes.  
“Well, it was not uncommon, to say the least.”  
Taeven thought about it a moment and then shrugged indifferent.  
“I prefer the real thing.”  
At that the god actually laughed.  
“Who would’ve guessed!”


End file.
